


Orbital Mechanics

by Drogna



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Apologies to Blake's 7, Gen, Rip Week 2019, RipFic, Two guys and a shuttle, self-sacrificing tendencies, unusual friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drogna/pseuds/Drogna
Summary: John and Rip find themselves in a dilemma when their shuttle needs to gain altitude or crash into the surface of Mars.





	Orbital Mechanics

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily inspired by the Blake's 7 episode "Orbit" but whilst Avon grabs a gun and goes to hunt down Villa, Rip and John handle things a little differently.

 

***

“Why do I let you talk me into these things?” asked John, getting progressively more irate as the speech continued. “It’ll be quick, he said. It’s just a short journey to Mars, he said. Think of the new spells you could learn, he said. You get to go to the future, he said. Yeah, right.”  John wrenched a crash couch away from its moorings with a crowbar and a grunt. “This is the last time I let Rip sodding Hunter cash in a favour!”

 “It was your plan to trick them!” Rip snapped back, as he pushed the couch that John had just removed into the airlock of the shuttle that they were in. He closed the door and cycled the airlock, checking that the item had blown out into space, along with everything else that had been in there.

“It worked,” said John, with a pause for breath as he looked around for something else to remove. “Until it didn’t.”

He hacked at a piece of panelling with the crowbar, taking out some of his obvious anger on the fittings.

“Unless we can shed some more weight then none of this will matter,” said Rip. “And we will never get that tablet back to the Waverider, which I may remind you, we desperately need to defeat a demon.”

He looked at the blue glowing cube that sat on the top of the console, and was currently acting as a relay for Gideon. The deal had been to exchange a supposedly sophisticated computer for the ancient Pyroes Tablet that had been excavated on Mars in the 2120s. It had all been going very well until they left and realised that the shuttle had been compromised. Both of them were putting it down to sabotage, although the exact nature was beyond their limited resources to identify. Whatever had been done, it meant that they couldn’t gain the required altitude to break orbit and were currently heading for a rather ignominious death in one of the larger Martian craters.

“I knew I shouldn’t have come to any planet that was called Nergal by the Babylonians. They knew what they were talking about,” said John, he had removed his coat and was stood with his sleeves rolled up. Sweat shone on his skin despite the removal of his outer layer.

“Gideon, how much more weight do we need to lose to gain escape velocity?”

“70 kilograms, Captain,” replied Gideon.

“We’re close,” said Rip. “There must be something that weighs 70 kilograms.”

“Mr Constantine weighs 76 kilograms,” said Gideon, far too happily.

There was utter silence in the cabin of the shuttle, as Rip stiffened and met John’s eyes. John had straightened his back at the sound of his name, and a look of realisation was dawning across his face.

“And how much do I weigh, Gideon?” Rip asked, quietly.

“You weigh 73 kilograms, Captain,” replied Gideon.

“No,” said John, answering a question that Rip hadn’t even voiced, “don’t you dare! No more bloody sacrifices for me! I’ve got enough blood on my hands.”

“You are needed to interpret the tablet and deal with the demon,” said Rip. “I am surplus to requirements.”

He took a step towards the door, and John moved between him and it.

“Don’t be a bloody idiot,” said John. “You’re the one with the little book that details every single sodding piece of evidence that you’ve ever found. You’re the expert! You could probably do the damn spell without me. If anyone isn’t needed then it’s me.”

“John, get out of my way. We both know how this has to end,” said Rip.

“You always have to be the big hero, don’t you? You _utter_ arse,” said John. “How many times have you nearly sacrificed yourself for someone else? I’ve watched you try to do it for me enough times.”

“And yet I’m still here,” said Rip, anger creeping into his tone. “Somehow, I always bugger things up, don’t I?”

“The goal is to stay alive, Rip, not find the most spectacular way to die! Also we need to talk about your AI trying to kill me. Thanks a bunch, Gids, I always knew you loved me,” said John, sarcasm aimed squarely at the blue cube.

“I was merely answering the question,” said Gideon.

“Of course you were, love,” said John, with disdain.

“We are wasting time,” said Rip.

“Sod this for a game of soldiers,” said John. “You are really pissing me off now.”

John threw a punch at Rip’s jaw, and for once, Rip ducked. However, John fought dirty and Rip found a second punch buried in his stomach. He doubled over, coughing. He should have seen that coming, but he hadn’t expected John to hit out at him even once, let alone twice. Rip recovered just in time to throw his own punch and smack John with an uppercut that led to an audible exhalation of air. He staggered back a couple of steps, rubbing at his chin.

Unfortunately, Rip hadn’t realised that John was now muttering something under his breath. The warlock held out a hand towards Rip, and suddenly he found his hands bound together by a glowing orange light that formed links like a chain. Then he was being pushed back against a wall. The air was expelled from his chest with the force of his impact.

“Sorry, Rip, but it’s not your turn,” said John, as his pushed his sleeves down and picked up his coat. He put it on, and straightened his tie, without really tightening it, which was something of a feat in Rip’s opinion. Then he turned towards the airlock.

Rip struggled against the magical bonds, but knew that John wouldn’t have used them if they were easily escapable. He couldn’t believe that John Constantine was about to sacrifice himself for him. It seemed absurd that the self-interested magician would even contemplate it, and Rip had no wish to lose a friend this way.

“John!” he shouted, pleading with that one word.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll see each other in hell,” said John, with a grin. He got out a cigarette, and shoved it in his mouth, while he searched for his lighter with his other hand.

The shuttle jolted and seemed to stop in mid-air, and a bright light filtered into the cockpit. Rip recognised it immediately as the Waverider’s tractor beam.

“I have an incoming transmission,” said Gideon.

“You guys look like you’re in a bit of trouble,” said Sara’s voice over the com.

“You have no idea,” replied Rip.  “Perhaps you could bring us home.”

“Can do. See you in five,” said Sara, and cut the connection.

John lit his cigarette, and pulled smoke into his lungs looking utterly unrepentant.

“You can let me down now,” said Rip. “Luckily neither of us will need to step into the airlock.”

John waved a hand, and Rip crumpled to his knees, freed from the force keeping him upright. He glared at John, and there was silence for a few minutes as the shuttle was pulled into dock with the Waverider.

“Not a word to the Legends,” said Rip.

“Of course not, wouldn’t want them to tell me about all the times you tried to save their arses by throwing yourself on your sword,” said John.

“You were going to sacrifice yourself in my place,” said Rip.

“So? We’re both fucked up,” said John. “The difference is that you actually have a team who care about you and stuff to live for. And for the record, I had a plan: go into suspended animation and wait for you to loop round and pick me up. I’m pretty sure that the Waverider’s medbay could have revived me.”

“That was a terrible plan,” said Rip. “I have no idea how you would even “go into suspended animation”.”

John tapped his nose. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, I believe I did just say that I would,” said Rip.

“Combination of meditation and magic,” replied John, sucking on his cigarette again.

“You always have an answer, don’t you?” said Rip, with annoyance. “I think you are very possibly full of shit and you didn’t have any sort of plan at all.”

John shrugged, and grinned smugly. “You can think what you like, mate.”

The shuttle clunked into its berth in the Waverider, and the airlock indicated that it was safe to exit.

“Drink?” asked John, picking up the cloth wrapped tablet.

“Drink,” replied Rip.

The two men exited the shuttle, John stubbing out his cigarette as he went and Rip picking up the relay cube. They ignored the welcoming committee of Sara and Jax, who both seemed to understand that no one wanted to talk, and they walked with purpose towards the parlour. Rip went straight to the decanter and poured them two large measures of brandy.

“We should probably seek help,” said Rip, as he sat down heavily.

“Been there, done that,” said John, placing the tablet on the table in the centre of the room, and tracing the inscriptions with a finger. “I wouldn’t be the amazingly well-balanced individual that you see before you without it.”

“Hmmm,” said Rip, examining his glass, and sounding far from convinced.

“Look, when you come down to it, one of us surviving was better than neither of us. We were basically being entirely logical,” said John.

“Absolutely,” said Rip. “Completely rational.”

“Yeah,” said John, and downed his drink.

“We just lead very dangerous lives, and if there had been any alternatives then we’d have taken them,” said Rip. “Neither of us really _wanted_ to die, did we? It was just that circumstances demanded a sacrifice.”

“Exactly,” said John, as he poured himself a second glass and then sat down in one of the other chairs.

There was another period of silence while the two of them contemplated that and sipped the brandy.

“I haven’t seen you use that spell before,” said Rip. “It might have been useful earlier, but you didn’t cast it then.”

“Uh, well, no, I couldn’t really,” said John.

“Why not?” asked Rip.

“It only works on people I like,” said John, with a small smile twisting the corners of his lips in a manner that Rip wasn’t sure that he liked. “It’s a bondage spell.”

Rip found himself choking on the mouthful of brandy that he’d just taken. John came over to pat him on the back while he laughed at Rip’s misfortune.

When the coughing had finished, he looked at John, and considered something.

“Thank you,” he said, earnestly. “There aren’t many people who would do for me what you planned to do.”

“Likewise,” said John. “But let’s make sure it’s a long time before we do anything like that again.”

“Agreed,” said Rip.

It was much better not to be placed in such a circumstance like that in the first place, and that was what he was going to focus on.

***


End file.
